Hogan's Heroes: The Crittendon Rescue
by Basketballgirl Kaitlin
Summary: An important colonel is in Gestapo custody, and Hogan and his team have been ordered to get him out and back to London. Unfortunately, Hogan's been assigned another officer to help him with the mission...and he's terribly disappointed when he finds out who it is.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

The door to Klink's office abruptly open, and Kinch, Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, and Kalina came bolting in searching for the same object. The group of five set their eyes on the target that sat at the front of the kommandant's desk: the radio.

They all sprinted towards the object, everyone grabbing it at the same time, then started tugging on it accompanied with grunts and whines.

"Give it here," Newkirk ordered.

"No!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"Give it!"

"Newkirk, the season finale of _'Dream Another Day'_ is on," Kalina said, using all the strength her body had to get the radio from the Englishman's grasp. Had it not been for LeBeau and Carter tugging on it for the same reason, she would have lost the battle already.

"We ain't listening to no bloody ol' soap opera when the European football championships are playing live," Newkirk answered, pulling the radio back.

"We want to hear Maurice Mitchell and Fabien Allemand beat each other up." Kinch added.

"Soap opera!" Kalina cried.

"Football," Newkirk said.

"Soap opera!" Kalina, LeBeau, and Carter yelled.

"Football!" Newkirk and Kinch replied.

The five continued to yank the radio, when Kinch and Newkirk lost their grip and caused the others to fall backwards, the Frenchman clutching the radio for dear life. When the trio realized they had won the fight, they all cheered.

"Come on, LeBeau," Klink's daughter said eagerly. "Turn it on."

"Yeah, I wanna know if Dr. Ziegler's gonna kill that Russian spy or not." Carter added.

LeBeau sat the radio down on the ground with a wide smile on his face, turned the knob to 'on', and the group of three fell silent the minute they heard their show playing.

"_Wolfie, don't leave me. You're forgetting everything we've been through. Everything we wanted. Have you forgotten the love that we shared?_"

"_You were in a coma for six months after the accident, Clara. I grieved, I have moved on. I'm going to marry Magda whether you like it or not_."

"Blimey, we're missing one of the biggest sporting events of the year all because of some bleedin', German soap opera." Newkirk grumbled to Kinch.

He was immediately hushed by LeBeau, Kalina, and Carter, whose ears were glued to the radio. Their faces filled with suspense and anticipation, determined not to miss a single word that the characters said. The scene had changed to a new setting, somewhere outside during the night it sounded like. A man named Rolf was begging someone named Inga to wake up and to not give up on him.

"_You filthy traitor! You are a disgrace to your Gestapo uniform!_" Rolf yelled at someone.

Another man known as Thomas was heard chuckling at the man's fear.

"_I warned you about telling Herr Major about Joachim...you should have listened to me now, shouldn't you. Now you will watch your wife slowly die while I make my leave out of Germany_."

"_You're sick. You are no German. You're nothing more than a Dämon. And when I tell Major Hoffmeister all of this, I assure you not even the __**Fuhrer**__ will side with you!_" (1)

"_Don't bother. By tomorrow morning, Himmler will be receiving a phone call reporting Hoffmeister dead by a gunshot to the head. That they can find him hanging from a tree a few miles north of here._"

"I _knew_ it was him!" LeBeau exclaimed.

Kalina hushed him softly.

"Listen," she said, in a whisper.

"_Inga...Inga! Don't you die on me...don't you die on me! Help! Help! I need a doctor, help! No, no, baby, come on, breathe. Help! HELP!_"

The scene faded out and was soon replaced with the show's closing music, making LeBeau, Carter, and Kalina jump to their feet.

"WHAT?!" They all cried.

"You mean I have to wait four months to hear if Thomas gets arrested?" LeBeau asked.

"Now I gotta wait until _October_ to find out if Dr. Ziegler killed that spy or not," Carter said, with a long frown.

"If they let Inga die, someone's going to be severely yelled at," Kalina said, and crossed her arms while wearing a pouty face.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, can we listen to our game now?" Newkirk asked.

His French counterpart gave him a smug glare, then reluctantly handed over the radio, and Newkirk and Kinch sat on the ground. The staff sergeant switched through channels until the sound of a cheering crowd, soccer ball kicks, and announcers were heard over the speaker.

"_Mitchell down the field, he's faking left, going to right, he's reaching the French side, and HE'S GOT IT! OFF THE POLE! Maurice Mitchell ties the game! Uh oh, looks like Allemand has something to say about it. He's approaching Mitchell, the two are yelling at one another, and oh my God, he's taking Mitchell by the hair. It's a tussle between countries right on the ground!_"

The cheering and yelling could be heard blasting into the room, Newkirk and Kinch's expressions turning from intrigued to full blown excitement.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight! Fight, fight, fight, fight!" They chanted at the radio.

As the two continued to root for the bloodshed occurring back in London, the door to Klink's office again opened, and the kommandant himself stepped inside. He briefly stood there wondering what his Senior POW's men and Kalina were doing in there. His facial expression quickly changed from shocked to angry the minute he saw them messing with his radio.

"What's going on here?" Klink demanded, stepping towards the two sitting in front of him.

"We're listening to the European football championships, Sir," Newkirk asked, grinning.

"Allemand and Mitchell just got into a fight, and refs are breaking it up now." Kinch added.

"I will not let my daughter be exposed to such insolent behavior," Klink said, with a scowl.

"Aw, come on, Kommandant. It's just for entertainment, they ain't actually harming anybody...not _yet_, at least," the Englishman answered.

"I want all of you to get out of my office at once and go find something more _civil_ to do. Anything that doesn't include encouraging others to beat each other up."

Kinch and Newkirk turned to look at one another, back at Klink, then hung their heads and got to their feet. The staff sergeant picked up the radio and handed it to the German officer. The five soon filed out of Klink's office in one line, Carter, LeBeau, and Kalina still discussing how their soap opera had ended for the season.

Once Kalina closed the door behind her gently, Klink leaned out to see if they had exited the building yet. When he heard the outer door close and spotted his daughter, LeBeau, and Carter making their way to barracks two, the kommandant rushed to his office door, opened it, and stuck his head back out.

"Are they gone?" He asked, in a whisper.

"Just left to go play a game of gin," Kinch answered, he and Newkirk stepping back inside.

"Oh _wunderbar_. Now we can _really_ start the fun!"

Klink and the two prisoners hurried to the desk in the far side of the room, sat down around the radio, and Kinch turned the knob back to on. Soon the room was again filled with the sounds of a cheering crowd, announcers, and ball kicking noise. They had turned the game on just in time, too; Mitchell and Allemand were yet again in another fight with each other. The group of three banged their fists against the desktop and began to cheer.

"Fight, fight, fight, fight! Fight, fight, fight, fight!"

* * *

Hours passed since everything in Klink's office had taken place. In barracks two, Hogan, with his hand placed over his belly, was leaning against Newkirk and Carter's bunk while talking to Baker. Kinch was down in the tunnels taking a radio message from London, and the others' whereabouts were beyond the colonel's knowledge.

As he continued talking with the sergeant, the door to the barracks opened, and Kalina bolted in with a wide grin on her face. She ran to Hogan's side and hugged him, slightly catching him off guard for a moment. He then softly chuckled and wrapped his arms around the small teenager, gently rubbing her back.

"Hi, hon," he said warmly.

Kalina made her eyes up at her second papa, brightened like the sunshine, then lay her head back against Hogan's belly and continued to hug him.

Just as Hogan began rubbing the back of her head and resumed his discussion with Baker, the barracks door again opened, and Newkirk came inside with Carter and LeBeau trailing behind him. All of them had excitement glittering inside their eyes.

"Colonel," Newkirk said, siding up beside his commander. "We wanna throw a bro mitzvah, Sir."

"A bro _mitzvah_," Hogan remarked surprised. "What is that?"

"It's a bar mitzvah, but for a grown man. Louis's been telling me all about the bar mitzvah he had, and I wanna have one for my birthday."

"Newkirk, your birthday isn't for another five months. And you're not even Jewish."

"That's why we're calling it a _bro_ mitzvah, Gov. It's the non Jewish, adult version of a bar mitzvah."

Hogan turned his eyes to his French corporal, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I thought it was a neat idea," he simply said.

With an amused smile on his face, Hogan turned his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

"Alright," he answered. "You can have your bro mitzvah...but on one condition."

"What's that, Colonel?" LeBeau asked, looking just as ecstatic as Newkirk was.

"It cannot be as out of control as the birthday party you threw for Olsen last year."

"How was _I_ supposed to know three shots of tequila would get him that drunk?" Newkirk replied.

The colonel rolled his eyes and shook his head again, when he was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of the fake bunk opening and closing. His second-in-command came walking in the group's direction, his face anything but jovial.

"Got a new assignment from London, Colonel. It might just be our biggest one yet," Kinch reported.

"Why? What is it?" Hogan asked, his face growing somber and stern.

"The Gestapo has one of our colonels in custody at a hidden holding center, and we're to bust him out and get him back to London. I nearly fainted when they told me who it was. You might know him, Sir."

"Who is it?"

Kinch let out a heavy breath of air before answering. "Colonel Herbert Pike."

As if the name had been the devil's, Newkirk and LeBeau let out a loud scream, their eyes flooding with horror. Meanwhile, Carter and Kalina were completely clueless as to who everyone was referring to.

"What?" The young man asked. "Who's he?"

"Colonel Pike?" Hogan asked, as if he had heard wrong. His eyes were wide, knowing _exactly_ what Kinch had told him. He just wanted to hear it again to make sure he was not finally losing his mind.

"_The_ Colonel Pike," Kinch answered, with a firm nod.

"That man's a living _legend_ in our military."

"And a _gold mine_ for the Gestapo."

"The mastermind behind seven major sabotage assignments. Two ball bearing plants, two secret Luftwaffe airports, and three major train systems transporting both war supplies and soldiers to both fronts. Yet no one has been able to identify who's behind all of these devastations...until now."

"Wait a minute," Carter gasped, his eyes dilating in size. "This Colonel Pike is the Banshee?! The name the Krauts are identifying him as because all they know about him is from the drawing on his plane?"

"The one and the same. And the longer he's in captivity, the more worried London is about him cracking," Kinch answered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

"If he talks, the Allies could be at high risk to lose the entire war," Newkirk said, grim.

"We have to get him out of Gestapo custody. But how?" Hogan asked, wrapping his arms around himself and pursing his lips.

"Hopefully when the other colonel gets here tomorrow, we'll have a better idea on how to proceed with this matter," Kinch said.

"_Colonel_!" Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter exclaimed.

"_What_ colonel?" Carter added.

"Why can't Colonel Hogan do it? If he cannot do the job, _nobody_ can," LeBeau said, high offense strongly heard in his tone of voice.

"London thinks it's gonna take _two_ colonels to get this job done. With a man as important as Pike, London's not risking any screw-ups with this assignment. They want Pike out, and they want him out as soon as possible," Kinch said. "Pike knows so many high-end secrets of the Allied High Command he might as well know what this Manhattan Project is about."

"Manhattan Project?" Kalina asked dumbfounded. She turned to look up at Hogan. "What is _that_?"

"We don't know," the colonel said truthfully. "One of my commanding officer's colleagues, General Butler, told us to never speak of it ever again. Almost cost us our entire operation when a Gestapo officer was hounding us for information regarding it." (2)

"Major Hochstetter?"

Hogan softly chuckled.

"No, this guy was far worse than Hochstetter," he told her kindly.

"I don't know how anybody could be worse than Major Hochstetter. I mean have you met him?" The little Klink remarked.

Hogan's smile brightened, seeming to light up the entire room, and he gently rubbed the back of Kalina's head. His expression grew serious again as an idea came to his mind.

"Kalina, you have the ability to get information from the Krauts not even _we_ can get a hold of easily. Would you be able to find out where all these hidden Gestapo holding places are in Hammelburg?" He asked.

"I would have to call a contact of mine in Headquarters for that information. He owes me a favor anyways. Guess who was the one that got him off the hook with the underground when he got captured under suspicion of exposing us."

Hogan's grin returned along with a wink.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," he said.

Kalina giggled in response.

"Kinch, radio London and tell them message received and acknowledged," Hogan ordered, turning back to his second in command.

"Right, Sir," the radioman said, hurrying back to the fake bunks.

The colonel then turned to Kalina. "Hon, I want you to get in touch with that contact of yours and get those locations. Tell him the more information, the better. Who is he, anyways?"

"I don't know. He's never told me his name. He says he works for someone by the name of Nimrod, though," she answered.

Hogan's eyes dilated to the size of saucers and looked up the three men before him, the same look of shock on their faces as his.

"Ni, Ni, Nimrod?" Newkirk stuttered.

"Apparently he's some big shot spy sent here by the Allies. The Germans are driving themselves crazy trying to figure out who he is...I'll get that information to you as soon as I have it, Colonel Hogan." She explained, as if the four did not already know. She gave Hogan a respectful salute, then exited the barracks with the door softly closing behind her.

Once she was gone, Hogan made his eyes back to his men, all of them still trying to fight of the blow of what they had just heard.

"Kalina knows someone who knows Nimrod?" Carter gasped.

"And she doesn't even know who the man is." Newkirk added.

"You think this guy is trustworthy, Colonel? Or do you think he's playing _ma petite ami_ for a fool?" LeBeau asked.

"If he knows _Nimrod_?" Hogan replied. "He's almost as trustworthy as God."

* * *

(1) _Dämon_ \- Demon

(2) Reference to the episode 'Two Nazis For the Price of One' in season three.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Klink sat at his desk listening to a new football game between Belgium and Switzerland while mindlessly eating chocolate chip cookies with cups of tea. The game was being announced in German, which was probably his favorite part about this round. It was not Mitchell and Allemand having a swing match, but he could not divert his attention away from the radio. He was not particularly a football fan, but the sporting event was a nice, temporary getaway from the war and far more enjoyable than the legal documents he had to currently sort through and sign.

Something in German was said over the radio that made the colonel scoff.

"Like Switzerland could outdo Germany," he said, taking a bite of his cookie.

He continued listening to the game, completely oblivious to his office door opening and his commanding officer, General Albert Burkhalter, stepping inside. The burly general spotted his subordinate doing anything but his job and felt his blood pressure, like always when visiting Stalag 13, spike to an unsafe level.

"Klink!" He snapped.

Klink looked up from the radio, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, then rapidly set his cookies aside, picked up a pen, and pretended to be working.

"General Burkhalter, what a pleasure to see you, Sir," he answered, with a respectful salute.

"What is it do you think you are doing?" Burkhalter asked, stepping closer to the desk with his hands clasped behind him.

"Oh, I was just doing some paperwork while listening to the European football championships. It's quite relaxing to listen to, actually. I bet you're a fellow fan of the sport, Sir?"

"There is a world war on, Klink. I have the _Fuhrer_ and Major Hochstetter breathing down my neck on a regular basis, and a dozen Luftwaffe squadrons being shot down over the Russian Front by the day. I could care less about Mitchell and Allemand's stupid rivalry that has swept across half of the continent!"

"Yes, _Herr General_. It is rather stupid now that you mention it."

"Then shut up and listen."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_. Shutting up and listening."

Klink flicked the radio off, folded his arms in front of him, and looked at Burkhalter timidly while waiting for him to speak.

"I am here on important business, Klink. There is word that the Gestapo are holding an American colonel in one of their hidden holding centers. Colonel Herbert Pike." The general began.

Klink's jaw dropped as his pupils dilated to nearly the size of his gentle blue irises.

"Colonel Pike?" He gasped.

"Suspected to be who we have come to identify as the Banshee." Burkhalter continued.

"The Banshee," Klink said, his skin turning pale.

"In charge of sabotaging over seven Luftwaffe assignments and the killing of over 20,000 of our people. Currently the most wanted man in all of Germany. The _Fuhrer_ has even offered an 86,000 marks reward for his capture. If he is truly the Banshee, he holds almost every military secret of the United States Air Force."

"General, as flattering as it is to know the Banshee might possibly be in captivity, what does this have to do with me and Stalag 13?"

"He is suspected to be in holding somewhere around Hammelburg. That includes your camp and the several surrounding areas. I want the Luftwaffe to get a hold of him before the Gestapo makes him crack. The information he holds could help Germany win this entire war."

"Why don't we just wait until the _Gestapo_ gets it out of him?"

"The Gestapo will use that information for their own personal gain. The last thing they would do is give the Luftwaffe what Pike tells them. Hochstetter would not let us have those military secrets without a good, long fight. If we wish to get that information, the Luftwaffe will have to take matters into our own hands. We must find out where they are holding Pike before it is too late."

"You mean...you want _us_ to break Pike out of Gestapo custody?"

"Of course not. That is what my letter from _Reichsfuhrer Himmler_ is for. All you have to do is help me find where he is being held at."

"General Burkhalter, what if we don't find him?"

"Klink, are you familiar with Stalin's Great Purge?"

"Surely I am. Enemies of his are murdered, disappear from photographs, and poof. They're gone," Klink's eyes widened at the realization of what he said. He began to tremor under the general's icy stare. "Why do you ask?"

"Let's just say I know another man who can _also_ make people go 'poof'."

Klink slouched a bit in his chair and shivered more before slowly turning his head to the picture of Hitler on the wall. He had a very good feeling he knew exactly who Burkhalter was referring to.

* * *

The next day kept Hogan in his office occupied with a bunch of documents and maps to look over for the underground. One of his more boring tasks as a colonel, but someone had to do it. The only thing that made it more bearable was his record player running various jazz and army tunes throughout his room. With his new reading glasses given to him by Wilson, he was reading over a document proposing a possible code change, when he received a soft knock on his door. He looked up from his papers, set them down on his lap, and turned in the sound's direction.

"Come in," he said.

The door just barely came open, and little Kalina's head popped in between the cracks, cautious as to not barge into the colonel's room without permission.

"Can I enter?" She asked.

Hogan cocked his head a bit to the left while wearing a teasing grin.

"No, I'm changing," he answered facetiously.

"Oh...I'll come back then," Kalina said, and was about to close the door, when Hogan was heard stifling a laugh.

"Get in here," he told her, his grin widening.

The smile on her friend's face was too contagious, and Kalina felt the same one forming on hers as she entered inside while carrying several sheets of paper. She handed them to Hogan.

"I got those secret locations from my contact, Colonel Hogan. He did warn me to tell you there's a lot of them, though. _Herr Colonel_ could be at _any_ of them. He said he was going to try digging deeper and see if he couldn't track him down himself. I told him he's to report to us as soon as he has something," she reported, as the colonel sifted through pages and pages of information. His face brightened with mischief and pride.

"Kalina, you're a little angel. Nice work, hon," he said sincerely.

"An angel to the Allies, a devil to the Nazis."

Hogan laughed.

"That you are," he said.

Kalina's smile faded, and she held her arms open.

"Permission to ask for a hug?" She asked.

Hogan's warm smile made it feel as if the sun were shining right inside the private quarters.

"You never have to ask me for a hug," he said, taking off his glasses and rising to his feet. Hogan held his arms open and wrapped them around the little Klink the minute she reached him and hugged him tight. He gently rubbed her back, making Kalina briefly look up at him. When Hogan winked back at her, her small smile widened, then lay her head against his belly and closed her eyes.

The colonel had begun to rub the back of her neck, when the door opened, and Newkirk peeked his head inside. The Englishman grinned momentarily, then cleared his throat and spoke.

"Gov'nor," he said, grabbing the two's attention. "Kinch's bringing up the colonel London sent in."

Hogan looked down at Kalina, who was still hugging him.

"You ready to meet the new colonel?" He asked her.

His response was Kalina shifting a bit uncomfortably and lay her head again on Hogan's belly. She was not too fond of new people. Not only was Kalina more shy than the rest of her family, but she also did not trust one easily. A new person meant possible danger. Caution. A lingering threat that could turn around and bite them all in the end. If this new colonel was an agent secretly working with the Gestapo...she did not even want to go _down_ that route of thought.

Sensing her growing discomfort, Hogan gave the little teenager a kind smile and held her close.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm sure this colonel's gonna be great."

"But what if he's not? What if he's like Thomason? Or worse, what if he's not on our side?" (1)

Hogan sighed. "He won't be," he assured her. "London sent him in, he's the real deal. We also have protocols to protect us from any ringers."

"Ringers?" She frowned at the odd saying.

"Fakes. Phonies." Hogan draped his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the door. "It'll be alright...have I ever lied to you?"

The question made Kalina give a small grin and shook her head. If there was one thing true about her second papa, it was that he was always honest. One of the many things she and her 'big brothers' looked up to him for.

"Come on," Hogan continued. "Let's go see what this guy's all about."

The duo followed Newkirk out to the main area of the barracks, Hogan and Kalina stopping just a few feet in front of the stove, while the English corporal sat down at the table with Carter and LeBeau.

"Kinch come back yet?" Newkirk asked.

As Carter was about to answer, the fake bunk bed came open, and Kinch crawled over the wooden sides into the barracks. He made his way over to his commanding officer, the radioman's facial expression grim.

"You get him here alright, Kinch?" Hogan asked.

"Got him here just fine. But I apologize for who's about to come up here."

"Why? Who is it?"

Before Kinch could gently break the news, a familiar, British voice was heard growing louder and louder as he entered inside the barracks. The distinct mustache and flowing white scarf wrapped around the man's neck was more than enough for Hogan to identify the man.

"I say, Sergeant, I always forget what a smashing little business you got going here. Absolutely smashing," the voice of Colonel Rodney Crittendon said, making his way inside of barracks two. The instant sight of the man made Hogan dip his head in mercy and his stomach turn into knots.

"Tell me it's not so," he murmured to himself.

"Blimey, it's _him_ again," Newkirk said, with a shake of his head.

"_Mon Dieu, sauve-nous tous_." LeBeau added quietly. (2)

While everyone else was dreadful of who the new colonel was, little Kalina stood close to Hogan's side with a befuddled expression to her face. They all clearly knew who this man was, but who was he? She was not familiar with any RAF officers...or _was_ he an RAF officer? An eerie chill beginning to run up her spine, Kalina lay her head against Hogan and wrapped her arms around him, feeling slight comfort when he did the same in return.

"Hogan, ol' boy," Crittendon cheered, lying eyes on his American counterpart. He stopped just a few feet in front of Hogan and gave a firm salute. "Good to see you again, ol' boy. My, you look snappy. Have you lost weight since we last met?" He paused when he saw the small girl in Hogan's arms. She was looking back up at him with curious blue eyes. She was tiny compared to the rest of them, her head just barely reaching the bottom of Hogan's chest. Who was she, he wondered. And what on earth was she doing here in Stalag 13? "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met before. Colonel Crittendon of the RAF," he said, sticking his hand out for a shake.

Kalina simply stared at the hand in response. She returned her eyes to the stranger's face weary and swallowed a knot forming in her throat. She gave him a respectful salute, but nothing more. She held onto Hogan tighter and felt him gently rubbing her arm to ease her anxiety.

"Hogan, my boy, who is she? And what is she doing in this camp? Certainly a little lady like _her_ isn't a prisoner."

"Colonel Crittendon, this is my newest and littlest member of my team, Kalina Klink. Daughter of our kommandant and secretly working for the Allies," Hogan said, gesturing with his free hand to the teenager.

"By George, Klink's daughter working for the enemy, that's absolutely _smashing_, ol' boy. Absolutely smashing," Crittendon turned to Kalina. "Well, well, my dear Miss Kalina, you certainly are working for a remarkable chap here. Very intelligible and what not."

Kalina gave a small smile, but remained alert. He did not have her full trust _just_ yet, but he had earned some brownie points with the nice compliment regarding Hogan.

"_Guten tag, Herr Colonel_," she said softly, with a slight bow.

"A courteous little lady at that. Jolly good. Now, about this colonel we're to spring." The British colonel continued.

"Did London inform you on who this guy is before sending you here?" Hogan asked, eyeing Crittendon carefully.

"No, I was just told that my expertise was needed to rescue an important officer to the Allies from ol' Jerry here."

Kalina furrowed her eyebrows together.

"Jerry?" She asked, turning to look up at Hogan. "Who's Jerry?"

"Code name for Germans, hon," the American told her, gently rubbing the back of her head.

"Oh."

Hogan made his eyes back to Crittendon.

"Does the name Herbert Pike ring a bell to you?" He asked.

"One of the most decorated officers in the United States military, why do you ask?" Crittendon's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't tell me Jerry's got him."

"In a secret Gestapo holding center somewhere in this area," Hogan said, his arms wrapped around himself. "London wants him out and soon. Pike knows just about every military secret known to the United States Air Force. If he cracks under the Gestapo, he'll be a _gold_ mine to the Krauts."

"Good grief, that would spell a tribulation for London. No, we won't allow it. Now, we need a plan so diabolical that Jerry will never see it coming," Crittendon said, pacing back towards the fake bunk. He turned around and clicked on his heels. "Who has one?"

The American officer closed his eyes with desperation and began to grow pale, nausea in his stomach intensifying to an all new high.

"I think a feel a stomach ache coming on," he mumbled to himself, gently rubbing his belly.

"What if we lit the place on fire and everyone had to evacuate?" Carter suggested.

"Light _what_ on fire," Kinch said, crossing his arms. "We don't even know where Pike's being held at."

"We could call Gestapo Headquarters and have Newkirk pretend to be Hitler again," LeBeau said.

"Forget it," the English corporal answered. "My throat's _still _recovering from imitating that batty man."

"Before we proceed with _anything_ regarding Pike, we have to get Crittendon into camp somehow. The less suspicion around this assignment, the better," Hogan said, wrapping his arms around himself. "But how?"

"Oooooo! I know, I know, pick me! Pick me!" Kalina cried, jumping up and down with her hand in the air.

"Yes, Miss Kalina, what is it?" Crittendon asked, his hands clasped behind his back.

The girl gestured for the British colonel to come towards her. Crittendon followed just as told, leaned down till his ear was at the same height as Kalina's mouth, and she whispered her plan into his ear. He nodded a few times with a few 'mmm hmms', then a bright smile crawled onto his face.

"Jolly good," Crittendon said. "Good as done. When do we start?"

"Right now, if you want," Kalina answered.

Crittendon nodded.

"Give me ten minutes, and I'll have 'er done faster than you can say 'geranium'," he said, before taking off for the tunnels.

Kalina smiled with glee before realizing what the man had just told her. Her eyes widened, and her mouth nearly fell from its hinges.

"Geraniums!" She exclaimed, looking up at Hogan.

The colonel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't ask." (3)

* * *

(1) Colonel Bert Thomason is from my story 'Hogan's Heroes: The Cowardly Lion'. He was sent to Stalag 13 as Hogan's temporary substitute after Hogan had suffered from a stroke and lost his ability to speak.

(2) _Mon Dieu, sauve-nous tous_ \- God save us all.

(3) Reference to the episode 'The Crittendon Plan' in season three.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Crittendon wandered around the forest near camp for about eleven minutes before making his move. He walked towards the front entrance of camp and hid behind some bushes and shrubbery once reaching the hill's edge. He scanned for Klink's daughter, who soon came out of her father's office and turned towards the front gate. Seeing Crittendon in hiding, she nodded towards him. The signal had been initiated.

Crittendon nodded back and came out from the bushes. He pretended to tip-toe to the road leading to camp and made his way down the path, when Kalina's voice could be heard shouting commands in German.

"_Halt_," she cried, making her way to the gate. "_Wachen, alliierter Offizier, der versucht, davonzulaufen! Hol ihn, hol ihn! Schnell, schnell, schnell_!" (1)

"Aw blast," the British colonel grumbled to himself as the alarms sounded and dogs barked.

The two guards manning the gate opened it wide and let four more guards run out with the German Shepherds towards Crittendon. Once surrounding their captive, the guards aimed their guns steady at Crittendon to make sure he would not try anything, and the dogs gave low growls, lowering themselves to the ground.

"What's going on here?!" Klink bellowed, coming down the steps of the kommandantur. With his swagger stick clutched underneath his arm, he made his way to his daughter, who pointed in Crittendon's direction.

"Allied officer trying to make a run for it, Papa. Wasn't about to let Stalag 13 or _you_ get a bad name," Kalina said, her grin smug and pompous like the one that crept onto Klink's face. He wrapped his arms around his daughter and gave her a kiss on the head.

"Excellent work, _sußes_," Klink said with pride. "You are on your way to making a superior camp kommandant, my dear."

Kalina's grin brightened, while Klink returned his eyes to his guards and Crittendon.

"Bring him to my office," he ordered.

As the two Klinks walked together side by side, Crittendon nodded, highly impressed with the young teenager. Had he not had met her just minutes ago in barracks two, he would have never been able to tell Kalina was fighting for the Allies.

* * *

"Colonel Crittendon," Klink said, as he circled around his new prisoner, who was at the moment sitting in the chair across from the kommandant's desk. Kalina and Schultz looked on in silence. "This is the 20th time you have tried to get out of Germany."

"27, but who keeps track of things here," Crittendon corrected.

"20, 27, what difference does it make, you have failed _again_ at escaping. Now, after so many failed attempts, why is it that you continue to try making a run for it?"

"I like to keep optimism in these times, Sir."

"Optimism, ha! That's laughable. You Allies haven't got a single thing to be optimistic about. When we Germans are finished with you, all you will have left are broken hearts, shattered dreams, and the Third Reich will thrive as the most successful country in the world."

Schultz leaned over to Kalina, who was giving a faux, smug glare at Crittendon while crossing her arms.

"I thought the Allies were _winning_ the war," the fluffy sergeant said quietly to her.

"I mean, it's anyone's game still," Kalina answered friendly.

"Schultz!" Klink bellowed, making the two immediately fall silent. The kommandant looked at them for a moment longer, then diverted his eyes back to Crittendon. "Colonel Crittendon, you are hereby under Luftwaffe custody in Luft Stalag 13. You are very well aware of my impeccable no escape record; I hope my daughter here has reminded you of that very clearly."

The British colonel looked back to find Kalina again giving him the arrogant, sly grin that was so distinctively her father's. Her eyes glittered with pleasure and had her arms crossed against her chest. It was so well done that he thought the girl could even fool Hogan if he was currently standing there with them. He returned his gaze to Klink, who had grown a somber expression again.

"Question me all you like, I will not give you any answers," Crittendon said confidently.

"We have ways of making you talk, Colonel. Might I say very un_pleasant_ ways," Klink prodded.

"Use any torture methods you like, you will collapse with exhaustion before I give way."

Klink gave a loud 'humph' with a shake of his fist.

"Colonel Crittendon, you are more stubborn than a one eyed dog," he said.

"I think you mean 'mule', Papa," Kalina corrected, with respect.

"I heard that it was a one eyed puma." Schultz added.

"Puma?" Kalina asked.

"Oh, they are _nasty_ things. Sergeant Carter tells me about them all the time."

"Schultz!" Klink exclaimed.

"I could have sworn it was a one eyed rat that was so stubborn," Crittendon said.

"I don't care _what_ stupid critter it is, you get my point!" The kommandant returned his eyes to his sergeant. "Schultz, take Colonel Crittendon to barracks two."

"_Jawohl, Herr Kommandant_," Schultz said, with a firm salute.

"No need for that, Sergeant," Crittendon said, rising to his feet. "I know this place like the back of my hand. I could draw you an entire _map_ of this camp as I took a little kip. Cheerio, Kommandant." He made his exit from the kommandantur, leaving the three Germans to themselves.

Once hearing the outer office door close, Kalina looked up at her fluffy friend.

"Schultz," she said. "What is a puma?"

Klink let out a breath of surrender and brought a hand to his head. A menacing migraine was beginning to form, and it felt like someone was slowly tearing at his brain.

"I sometimes wonder if the Russian _Front_ is less stressful than it is here," he grumbled.

* * *

Hogan sat at the table in the barracks main area with a cup of coffee while the boys were engrossed in a game of gin. He was taking a drink when an argument broke out between his men.

"Gin," LeBeau said, lying his cards in front of him.

"That's not gin, you bloody cheated," Newkirk chastised.

"How was I cheating?"

"You have another deck up your sleeves, don't you."

"Are you sure you're not referring to yourself?" Kinch remarked to the Englishman.

"Children," Hogan said, using a father-like tone. "Do I need to put one of you in a time out?"

"Pick Carter, he's overdue for his turn," Newkirk grumbled, in response.

"Hey, why do _I_ gotta go into a time out?" The young sergeant asked.

"Because you haven't done a ruddy thing in three months, and that's suspicious in of its own."

"Well, maybe I've just been really well behaved is all."

"Who do you think you are; little miss goody-goody?"

"Kalina's not here, Pierre," LeBeau answered.

As Hogan was about to intervene and put an end to everything, the barracks door came open, and Crittendon made his way inside. The British colonel closed the door behind him and made his way towards Hogan, who was now looking up at him with curiosity blatantly glittering in his soft, brown eyes.

"How'd it go with Klink?" Hogan asked.

"Beautifully, Hogan ol' boy, absolutely beautifully. You could hardly even tell your little lady is fighting against Jerry. She made quite the show, she did," Crittendon answered, with a firm nod.

The American colonel could not help the warm smile that grew onto his face. It lit with pride and fatherly love.

"She does a damn good job at what she does. Not even her own father can see through her act," Hogan said.

"Quite the genius for a uh...a...how old is she again?" Crittendon asked.

"15. Been working for me for over a year now."

"15, ehy? Very young for a master spy. But we can discuss about her later. Now, onto the most important reason I am here. We must break Pike out of custody. Any second we put off means a greater chance of danger for the Allies. Now," Crittendon paused and clapped his hands together. "Who's got an idea?"

Carter's hand shot up into the air, earning a glare from Newkirk, who was sitting beside him.

"Put your hand down," the corporal said.

"I haven't even said it yet," Carter retorted.

"We are not letting two dozen monkeys loose in a Gestapo holding cell for a diversion."

"Well, why not?"

"First of all, where the bloody hell do you expect to get two dozen monkeys from?"

Carter fell quiet for a long moment before shooting a glance at Hogan.

"Hey Colonel," he said, with innocence. "You think London would do an airdrop for two dozen monkeys?"

Hogan rolled his eyes and looked off to his left.

"We can't do _anything_ until we find out what holding center Pike's located at. If we went through every single one of them, by the time we found Pike it would be too late," Kinch said.

"So we just sit here and wait for a miracle to happen?" LeBeau asked.

Before anyone could answer, the fake bunk opened, and Baker crawled up from the tunnels. He closed the hidden tunnel entrance and hurried to Hogan's side.

"Kalina's contact just radioed in, Colonel. He knows the man that's in charge of Colonel Pike's case," the assistant radioman reported.

"There," Newkirk said to his French counterpart. "You're welcome."

LeBeau gave a smug look back at Newkirk, then turned to face Hogan and Baker.

"Who is it? Do we have a name?" Hogan asked.

"A Major Johann Lauterbach. He didn't get the location of Pike's holding center, but he said Major Lauterbach is going to a huge Gestapo couple's party tonight. We could get the information from him ourselves if we sneak in." Baker continued.

"By jolly," Crittendon said, a lightbulb sparking on in his head. "I've got it! The solution to our entire problem."

"A Gestapo _couple's _party," Hogan remarked. "You have any idea how suspicious it would be for a bunch of single, disguised Gestapo personnel to barge in on a couple's event?"

"Of course not. That's why I shall take you along as my date tonight."

"Your what?"

"Well, I certainly cannot go to this event myself, can we wot. So, I shall take you along disguised as my beautiful, dependable wife."

Hogan's color almost immediately drained from his face and forcefully swallowed the sudden bad taste in his mouth.

"I think I just threw up a little bit," he answered softly.

"You're gonna take the Gov'nor to a Kraut dance as your devoted wife," Newkirk said, with disbelief.

"Why not?" Crittendon replied. "I think it's a rather smashing good idea."

"And what if I give direct orders for you to _discard_ your 'smashing good idea'?" Hogan rebutted.

"Then I would have to remind you I outrank you by date. My orders stand."

Hogan grimaced as he let out a sharp breath of air. He tilted his head down and propped it up with his arm.

"If I weren't a colonel, I could cry," he said to himself.

"Don't cry, Colonel," Carter answered. "You'll leave a nasty stain in your uniform."

Hogan just barely moved his head to the right and gave the sergeant an irritated look out of the corner of his eye. One that said 'you're not helping'.

"Newkirk," Crittendon began, turning to his fellow Britishman. "You are the master of disguises here, I will need a Gestapo colonel's uniform for myself and for you to make Colonel Hogan look like a total stranger. Now, chop chop. We have lots of work to do before tonight."

"Wait a minute," Hogan interrupted, holding up a hand to silence everyone. "There's one person I'm gonna allow to humiliate myself in front of for this and one person _only_." He got to his feet and made his way to the door. He was about to exit the barracks, when LeBeau stopped him.

"Who is that, Colonel?" He asked.

"The one person in camp who's an expert in girls...a girl herself."

* * *

(1) _Wachen, alliierter Offizier, der versucht, davonzulaufen! Hol ihn, hol ihn! Schnell, schnell, schnell_ \- Guards, Allied officer trying to run away! Get him, get him! Fast, fast, fast!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Kalina sat on the sofa in her living quarters reading a mystery novel that was proving to be more stupid than enjoyable. She shook her head with a frown as she continued to read on.

"Adelheid, you _dummkopf_," she grumbled. "I told you a hundred times not to trust him, and _now_ look what happened." She reluctantly resumed reading, when the door to the kommandant's quarters opened, and Hogan stepped inside.

"What 'cha up to there, hon?" He asked, making his way towards her.

"Reading this stupid murder mystery. Dumb girl just got herself killed for trusting the man I told her several chapters ago not to. I'm going back to my Erich Remarque after this," Kalina said.

Hogan smirked.

"You like all those World War I recaps and fictional works, don't you," he said.

Kalina fell silent for a moment, looking away from the colonel for a brief second.

"Maybe a little bit," she answered, putting her thumb and pointer fingers just millimeters away from each other.

Hogan's smile widened, then frowned as he remembered why he had come here to begin with. He returned his eyes to the little Klink, begging internally that she would not burst out laughing at his request. He let out a heavy breath of air and began to speak.

"Kalina, I've got a favor to ask of you."

She set her book aside and looked at Hogan with her full attention.

"Yeah," she said softly.

Hogan cringed at the request he was about to make, but it had to be done. He had orders to follow and a country to protect from utter destruction. He let out another breath of air before continuing.

"I'm about to ask you something that's going to sound extremely bizarre. Something you probably would never expect to hear come out of my mouth...promise me you won't laugh once I say it."

Kalina nodded, her eyes holding complete sincerity and warmth.

Hogan closed his eyes, opened them, then let out one final breath of air.

"I need you to make me look like a woman," he said.

Kalina did not respond immediately. She simply sat there looking at him blankly, the only movement coming from her were her sweet blue eyes blinking at him. Was she stunned? Was she trying to fight back from cracking up? Or did she think he had officially lost his mind? He could not read a single thing from her expression, but he had a horrible thought that the little Klink was thinking he was downright crazy.

The awkward silence lingered for a moment longer before Kalina rose to her feet and gestured him to follow her.

"Come with me," she said.

As Hogan began to do as told, Kalina turned around, waved at him to bend forward, then put her little hand to his face and appeared to be examining him for something. She looked at his face intently and shook her head.

"We have serious work to do." She continued.

* * *

"I am _not_ putting that on," Hogan protested, standing inside Kalina's room wearing his pants and one of Klink's bathrobes tied around his shirtless body. There in the girl's hands was a hanger with a long sleeved, light pink sweater with a long black skirt and black tights, while his leather bomber jacket and khaki service shirt hung on a hook attached to the back of Kalina's bedroom door.

"Why not?" Kalina asked, almost sounding offended.

"First of all, when's the last time you saw a full colonel wearing baby pink clothing?"

"We're not making you a colonel, we're making you a _woman_. Come on, you'd look good in this color."

"Forget it." Hogan crossed his arms and glared at her firmly.

"You wanna go in the tight magenta dress covered in glitter?"

Hogan grimaced and let out a surrendering sigh.

"Do I at least get to change and look at it first in private?" He asked, sounding more like a plea.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes to do so. I have to go yell at Corporal Vorster for falling asleep on duty last night anyways," Kalina answered. She handed the colonel the hanger with the woman's outfit and began to make her way to the door, when Hogan's voice stopped her.

"Kalina."

She looked back at him, her hand placed on the doorknob.

"Please tell me I don't have to wear high-heels." Hogan begged.

Kalina pursed her lips and thought about it.

"You behave, and I might just give you that permission," she said. Without another word, she gently closed the door behind her, leaving Hogan all alone. He looked at the outfit in his hands and let out a heavy breath of air.

"The things I do for this war."

* * *

It took about two hours for Kalina to do makeup, find a wig that matched Hogan's skin tone, and get him dolled up, but she had finally finished around five in the evening. She placed a mirror into the colonel's hands, then lifted her hand from covering his eyes.

"Voila," she cried, proud of her work. Hogan, on the other hand, was gawking at what he saw. He could hardly even recognize himself. The outfit Kalina had made him dress in, the dark brown, long length hair on his head, mascara and blush on his face, the diamond ring on his left hand, he looked just like a middle aged, married woman instead of the colonel he had walked into the Klink's quarters as. He was both immensely impressed and utterly terrified at how different he looked.

"Whoa," he finally said, cautiously running his fingers through his long, fake hair. "You can't even tell it's me."

"Do I clean up good or not?" Kalina remarked, beaming with pride while her arms were crossed. She could not have been more proud of her work.

"If you weren't on our side, I'd sure be scared of you. You could be a master con artist if you wanted to."

"Mmmmm, I'll stick with my medicine. Now, hold your breath." Kalina picked up a bottle of something sitting on her desk, took off the cap, and was about to push the button down, when Hogan backed away a bit and stared at the bottle in her grasp.

"What is that?" He asked weary.

"Perfume, now hold still. And whatever you do, do not breathe until I'm done."

The little Klink sprayed his neck, shoulders, belly, legs, and back up to his wrists. The room soon emanated a fruity, sweet smell, and Kalina capped her perfume again. She set it back down on the desk and nodded.

"All done," she said.

Hogan let out a heavy breath of air and gulped some more in. He was soon sniffing the air and became puzzled.

"What scent is that anyways?" He asked her.

"Midnight Passion. Papa bought it for me when he went for that business trip in Paris. Very expensive stuff...be careful tonight. You might have a few creeps following you around."

"Swell," Hogan answered sardonically.

"You look so pwetty," Kalina said, with a bright smile.

"If you were anyone else right now, I'd tell you to shut up."

Kalina giggled and helped Hogan to his feet. The colonel brushed the wrinkles out of his skirt, momentarily thankful for the black flats on his feet as he looked down, then back at the little teenager before him and gave a small smile.

"You did good, hon. Nice work," he said kindly.

"We girls are good at these things," she answered, earning a chuckle from Hogan in response. "...you wanna wear a diamond necklace to match your wedding ring?"

"You're pushing it," Hogan warned her.

Kalina frowned and let out a sigh.

"Alright, no diamond necklace. But you owe me for this," she said, with a wag of her finger.

"Don't tell me it's a sleepover." Hogan pleaded.

"No...just a little investigating on a certain corporal in barracks seven and if he's single or not."

Corporal Anthony Toscano was the newest and youngest POW to Stalag 13. An 18 year old college student from Harvard who had made the rank of corporal within a matter of months, he had won little Kalina's eyes and heart with his pearly white smile, twinkling dark brown eyes, and his thick, wavy black hair that was constantly pushed back with a large quantity of hair gel.

"Forget it," the colonel said. "Besides, you're too young for dating anyway."

"Have you _seen_ his hair?"

Hogan gave a silent laugh. "Yes, and when I see it again, I'll send it your regards."

Kalina gave a small grin, then held her arms out for a hug.

"Aw, hon," the colonel said, with a warm smile. He brought Kalina into his arms and gently rubbed the back of her head. "You're a sweet girl, you know that?"

"Papa'd make me clean the latrines if I didn't...and some of your men are really _brutto_." (1)

Hogan laughed.

"I don't blame you for _that_ one," he answered.

The two continued to hug, when Schultz wandered in unannounced. He saw the back of Hogan, and his eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly.

"Wh, wh, who is…" the fluffy sergeant gasped, pointing at the 'woman' before him.

Kalina looked up from hugging Hogan, felt the air briefly leave her body, then put on a false, outraged bravado.

"Schultz, get out of here!" She exclaimed, making her way to Schultz and turning him around to face the door.

"But, but but but, who is that woman in…"

"Out, out, out! Girls only, out!" Kalina finally managed to get Schultz to exit her room and shouted at him while shaking her fist as he left the private quarters. "And you say one word of this to Papa, your next orders will be to climb a mountain of snow!" She gave a sharp nod, closed her bedroom door, then made her way back to Hogan. "Men, I tell you."

Hogan gave a silent chuckle and gently rubbed the back of Kalina's neck.

* * *

"Papers?" Newkirk asked.

"Check," Crittendon said, who was dressed in a full Gestapo colonel's uniform.

"Gun?"

"Check."

"German memorized?"

"Da."

"It's '_ja_', Colonel," Kinch said, standing next to the radio table.

"That's exactly what I said, Sergeant. Da," Crittendon answered.

Newkirk sighed, his face looking as if he were in some physical pain.

"You'll pass," the English corporal said.

As Kinch was about to go over the plan once more, Hogan came in from the tunnel leading to Klink's quarters and joined the group of six. Carter was the first one to notice a new presence in the room, turned in his commander's direction, and stared at Hogan's new appearance. He was about to say something, when the colonel cut him to it.

"Not a word out of you," Hogan ordered.

Carter hung his head down a bit, but the shock remained. Was this really Hogan? It sure sounded like him, but he looked far from it.

"Dang," Kinch said, everyone's attention now on the American officer. "Kalina did good."

"You can't even tell it's you, Colonel. Not even the filthy bosche could detect something off." LeBeau added.

Crittendon picked up on a familiar scent and sniffed the air a few times. He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows together, wondering if it was actually there or he was just smelling things.

"Is that Midnight Passion I smell?" He asked.

"Don't get any ideas, Crittendon," Hogan answered warningly.

"Now remember," Kinch said. "You two are Colonel and Mrs. Randall Corper. Major Lauterbach's description is tall with dark brown hair and eyes. Kalina's contact described him as your typical ladies' man. Get in and get out fast. Lauterbach's known to be highly suspicious of everyone around him."

"Right," Crittendon said. "We'll have Pike's location and be back here quick as a jiff."

"And don't use the British jargon while you're there. Speak as much German as possible."

"Got it," Crittendon turned to Hogan. "Well then, are we ready, love?"

Hogan grimaced as he imagined the night ahead of him. "Just get this over with already."

* * *

(1) _B__rutto_ \- Gross


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The _Kaiserhof Victoria Hotel_ ballroom was filled with a bunch of music, laughter, and dancing of all kinds. Waiters served drinks and food on silver platters to the Gestapo personnel and their dates sitting at round tables covered with white tablecloths. A disco ball hung in the center of the room, the lights dimmed to a maximum low and replaced with a faint purple glow. At the very front of the ballroom was a stage where live jazz music and German hits were playing by live musicians. It was extravagant, it was classy, and it was romantic for those who wanted to go upstairs to a room and continued the so called 'party' there.

As Gestapo personnel swayed with their lovers on the dance floor, Crittendon and Hogan made their entrance inside. They showed their papers to the guard standing there, was given his approval, and emerged into the heart of the room. Both of them were stunned by the sight before them and momentarily forgot why they were even there.

"I say," Crittendon said. "Jolly good this place looks."

Hogan softly hushed him. "Not here, Crittendon. German only."

"Righto. I mean _jawohl_."

"You go find Lauterbach. I need to go have a drink in order to get through tonight."

Hogan split off from his British counterpart, and Crittendon began scanning the room for someone matching the major's physical description. Unfortunately, by how many people were present at the event, it would take all night to observe every attendee. He had only one option and one option only: dance his way around.

Crittendon shifted slightly with discomfort. He was not the dancing kind, but the assignment called for it. He tried to get to the groove of the song currently playing and slowly made his way through the crowd while briefly scanning each Gestapo personnel dancing with him.

Meanwhile, Hogan had gone to the bar at the far end of the ballroom and sat down on a stool in front of the countertop. He went for a mug of beer, realized who he was currently portraying, then reluctantly took a glass of a pinkish looking liquid. He took a drink of it, and his eyes dilated in size at how strong it was. He knew exactly why it was so strong, too: vodka. This drink, whatever it was, had vodka in it. One of the few alcoholic beverages that did not sit well with him. He coughed violently at how much it burned his throat and grimaced a bit as his stomach began to cramp. Knowing he had to keep his cover, he took another slow sip of the drink, puckering still at the awful, burning taste. Thank God for the fruity mix ins the drink had, or he would have been in the bathroom already regurgitating.

The Gestapo captain sitting beside him looked over, gave a wide grin, and smirked. He was smitten with the beautiful 'lady' beside him and decided to make his first move on 'her'.

"Your first drink, isn't it, _Fraulein_," he said, with a twinkle in his dark blue eyes.

Hogan gave a coy smile, looked away as it faded from his face, then took another tiny sip of his drink.

"You are shy, huh," the captain continued seductively. "I know of a way to fix that."

Hogan leaned back a bit, eyeing the officer cautiously. He gulped down the rest of his vodka poison and gestured for another.

Crittendon continued to dance his way around the room, varying moves from the mambo, to swing, to the Charleston. Most people ignored him, others stared at him awkwardly, but said nothing. He was about to sit down at an empty table and take a breather, when he spotted someone that made him hear a slot machine ringing inside his head. Less than twenty feet from his was Major Lauterbach speaking to one of his colleagues. On his left was a tall brunette in a skin tight, red sparkly dress, and on his right was a shorter, extremely thin blonde in a silk, royal blue crepe Ava Swing dress.

Crittendon danced his way out of the large crowd, then casually made his way to the major and saluted him.

"Major Lauterbach," he said in a poor, but passable German accent. "Colonel Randall Corper from Dusseldorf, I hear congratulations are in order."

"Ah, you have heard about my case regarding the possible capture of the Banshee, Colonel," Lauterbach answered, with a prideful grin.

"It is spreading all over Germany, Major. They are calling you a hero in Berlin, I hear."

Lauterbach bashfully scoffed.

"I'm merely doing my part to defend the _Fuhrer_ is all. It is nothing more than that," the major said.

"And where might he be now? Last time I heard, he was being held in one of our secret holding centers." Crittendon prodded.

"Still in the holding center just ten minutes out of Hammelburg. We're holding him there until he confesses to the charges against him...that man is more lock-jawed than a clam, though."

"And how long do you think that might take, Major? Rumor has it that the _Fuhrer_ is being very pushy with this case."

Lauterbach rolled his eyes.

"Don't remind me about it. I get about five phone calls from the _Reichsfuhrer_ a day regarding the man's current status. If he does not crack by midnight tomorrow, we are moving towards our more..._uncomfortable_ interrogation methods. If you know what I mean, _Herr Oberst_," he answered.

Crittendon was stupefied for a moment, then lit up and began to chuckle.

"I see what you're getting at, Major," the disguised Britishman said.

Both men soon were busting their sides laughing. It soon came to an end, and Lauterbach turned to look at his dates.

"Ladies, will you go fetch me another glass of schnapps, _bitte_?" He asked.

The brunette took Lauterbach's empty glass, and the blonde went to get a new one. When they had vanished, the major made his eyes back to Crittendon.

"Won't you join me at our table, Colonel? I think my fellow colleagues would enjoy your company," he said.

"_Nein_, but thank you for your invitation, Major. I must go and find my wife. You wouldn't happen to have seen my Clara, have you?"

Before Lauterbach could give an answer, both men heard the sound of someone screaming in pain. Crittendon and Lauterbach ran in the direction of the sound to find the man hitting on Hogan was rubbing at his eyes, tears streaming down his face.

"I didn't know you were married, _Fraulein_, you didn't have to throw vodka into my eyes!" The captain cried.

Hogan tried to maintain his cold, offended stare, but his stomach cramps intensified to the point he wanted to scream himself. The disguised American grimaced, looked down towards the table, and clenched his teeth as tight as he could. He put his left hand on his belly and began to beg God that he would throw up.

"You were hitting on another man's wife, Captain?" Lauterbach spat.

"I didn't know, _Herr Major_. I didn't know. Just make my eyes stop burning!" The captain pleaded, tears still streaming from his red, wet eyes.

The major let out a breath of frustration and held his hand out to his fellow colleague.

"Come on, Captain. Let's go rinse your eyes out," he said.

Lauterbach and the captain left the ballroom for the nearest bathroom, leaving Crittendon and Hogan to themselves. The British colonel turned to look at his 'wife', noticed Hogan's panged facial expressions, and lowered his voice.

"Are you alright, Hogan?"

The American shook his head as he continued to pant.

"You gotta get me back to camp," Hogan croaked. "You gotta get me something to make me throw up."

"A little one too many drinks there, ehy?" Crittendon asked.

"Just get me home before I _force_ myself to."

"Alright, alright, just...I know." Before Hogan got a chance to ask, he was being swept up into Crittendon's arms and carried out of the ballroom. "You hang in there, ol' boy. I'll have you back to the others faster than you can say 'Jerry'."

Hogan let out a soft whimper as he continued his labored breathing.

"If my stomach lasts that long," he answered.

Crittendon quickened his pace and was about to make his way to the hotel's front entrance, when he ran into two Gestapo officers gawking at him in what looked to be a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"Appendicitis," the disguised Britishman said. "Very bad appendicitis. Must be going now. _Arf wiedersehen_." Without a second to spare, Crittendon left without another word, leaving two very befuddled officers to themselves. The shorter one, a captain, looked to his good friend and commanding officer, a colonel.

"_Arf_?" He asked, dumbfounded.

The colonel shook his head disapprovingly.

"Northerners," he answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Kalina sat behind Hogan, dabbing his face with a cool washcloth as the colonel lay in his bunk dressed in pajamas and looking like his normal self again besides the pale skin and beads of sweat forming on his face.

While Hogan continued fighting and breathing through cramps, Carter was on standby, sitting on the floor with an old metal bucket in case his commander spit up. LeBeau, Newkirk, and Kinch stood at the foot of Hogan's bed trying to think of different ways to get the colonel's mind off of his intense stomach pain. Meanwhile, Crittendon had gone off somewhere to try and find something to 'fix' the current problem at hand.

"Poor Colonel Hogan," Kalina said, with empathy. She continued patting her friend's face, rubbing his head gently like her father did when she was sick.

"You've gotta make me throw up," Hogan answered, sounding more like a plea.

"You've just gotta let it run through is all, Sir," Newkirk said.

"You just lie down and try to sleep," the little Klink kindly told him.

"No," Hogan said. "You've gotta make me throw up. It's the only way I'm gonna feel better."

"_Ma petite ami_, you are the medic-in-training; do you know where to find some of that charcoal stuff?" LeBeau asked.

"I don't know how to make it," Kalina said, with a shake of her head.

"Why don't you try _thinking_ about it," Carter suggested.

"I can't think about _anything_ when my stomach feels like it's being torn apart." Hogan grimaced.

Newkirk snapped his fingers, a grin coming to his face. "I've got it. Who here's gotta toothbrush on them?"

"A toothbrush?" Kalina gasped.

"Put it all the way to the back of your throat, and it causes you to gag in response. Works every time I've heard."

"We want him to throw up; not kick the bucket," Kinch said, crossing his arms.

Kalina furrowed her eyebrows together, completely at a loss with the radioman. She gazed at him as if he had just grown a third head. "Why do you want Colonel Hogan to kick that bucket?" She asked, gesturing with her head to Carter.

Hogan tried to give her a smile, but another stomach cramp waved through his body, and he again tried to force himself to throw up. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful with each attempt. As he continued to strain himself with the task, the door to his quarters opened, and Crittendon walked in carrying a glass with a cloudy looking substance within it.

"Has he done it yet?" The British officer asked.

"No," Kalina said, meek. She resumed rubbing Hogan's head again, using her left hand to continue dabbing at his face. "He keeps trying to force himself, but nothing's happening."

"Jolly good," Crittendon answered, handing the glass over to his American counterpart. "Here, Hogan. Drink this."

"What is it?" Hogan asked, gently rubbing his aching belly.

"Water mixed with baking soda. The sodium bicarbonate is known to make people gag if too much is consumed."

Kalina looked off to her left and felt herself gag a bit.

"Get that bucket ready, Andrew," Kinch warned. "I want to throw up just _thinking_ about how that must taste."

Hogan shuddered, briefly wishing he would just die instead, then quickly downed the glass. He did not even need to swallow to get the reaction. He leaned over to stick his head in the metal bucket and coughed several times.

"Blimey," Newkirk said.

"That vodka is not kind." Kinch added.

Hogan lay back onto his bed and tried to catch his breath. His color was finally returning to everyone's satisfaction and seemed to be at more ease. He even gave Kalina a grateful smile as she wiped the remaining sweat from his face.

"How are you feeling, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

The colonel sighed with relief.

"A lot better now," he answered. "That's the one alcohol my stomach doesn't do well."

"I don't blame you, Sir. Have you tried that stuff straight from the bottle? Might as well drink the gasoline out of the gas station pumps," Kinch said.

Hogan swallowed before speaking. "Drank half a bottle non-stop on a bet in college. Had to go to the emergency room by how much pain I was in. My stomach had to be pumped, and I never drank another sip of vodka again...until tonight, that is."

"You think _vodka _is bad," Carter replied. "You should try a few shots of tequila straight. Why, I was at my friend's party once while his parents were away, and we all dared one another to…"

"Andrew," Newkirk said. "Shut up, or the next one drinking half a bottle of vodka's gonna be _you_."

"Look, forget the alcohol. What did you guys find out tonight? You know where they're holding Pike at?" Kinch asked, turning to both colonels.

"Ten minutes out of Hammelburg, chap," Crittendon answered. "And I have to perfect idea to spring him out, as they say."

"Crittendon, you better let _me_ handle this one," Hogan said, with fatigue. "Pike's bound to be under heavy guard. We might only have one shot at this, and we've gotta do it right."

"Nonsense, ol' boy. You are far from tip-top shape right now, you stay here and rest, and I will handle the rest. Now, I will need Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Kalina for the job."

"Colonel Crittendon, this might be the biggest thing we do this entire war. We need to think this over from every angle. One mess up could mean the end of Colonel Pike's life."

"Rest assured, Hogan. I have thought this plan inside and out, the chances of it failing are slim to none. You have my word as a fellow officer."

Hogan sighed with surrender, too tired to argue with the British officer. He lay his head back against his pillow, closed his eyes, and allowed Crittendon to take over command.

"I can only imagine what it might be," Hogan muttered to himself.

* * *

"Sneak in?!" LeBeau exclaimed, as he, Newkirk, Carter, Kalina, and Kinch were all briefed the next morning after roll call. Crittendon had just finished explaining how everything would go tonight, and they all thought the colonel had finally cracked. His plan was next in line to insane. _More_ than insane; it was a suicide assignment.

"Only Kalina would sneak in. The rest of us would set up a diversion at the front entrance as she escapes with Pike." Crittendon clarified.

"Sir," Newkirk began. "I mean this in the most respectful way...I think you're bloody crackers."

"That place's gotta be just _filled_ with hidden traps," Carter said.

"You guys took one step in the wrong direction, you all could be wiped out within minutes." Kinch added.

"Nonsense, Sergeant. We'll be in and out in a dash." Crittendon replied.

"I think we should consult with Colonel Hogan before making any final decisions, Colonel," LeBeau said cautiously.

"Colonel Hogan is recovering from a serious medical malady. It's best we leave him to rest. Now," Crittendon answered, turning to Kalina. "Kalina, I want you to sneak in through the basement window and quickly make your way to Pike. Order for the guard to release him and take him back with you the same way you came in."

The little Klink licked her lips and looked up at the British officer with hesitance. She shifted uncomfortably in her spot before answering softly.

"I'm not allowed to do anything without Colonel Hogan's orders, _Herr Colonel_. He'll be very mad if I go against his words."

"My dear Miss Kalina, I have a higher rank by date over Colonel Hogan. My orders trump his any day."

Kalina looked at Crittendon briefly, turned her eyes downward, then gently shook her head.

"I can't," she said quietly. "_Es tut mir Leid, Herr Colonel_, I can't. I can't go behind Colonel Hogan's back...I made that mistake once, I'm not making it again." (1)

"What are you talking about? What mistake?"

Kalina swallowed a knot down her throat, hung her head again, then closed her eyes and shook her head as if remembering pained her. And it did. It may have been over a year since that ugly night happened, but it still haunted her to that day. Her stupid decision. The two lives that were lost that night. The deep anger and disappointment in her second father's eyes...she decided since then that she would lock away that immense guilt and never open it up again. Because no matter how many times Hogan told her it was over and she was forgiven, the guilt would never cease its hold on her. That night would haunt her for as long as she was breathing, and she felt not even God could take away her sin.

Hogan, who had been leaning against his bedroom door silently, felt a touched smile come to his face. He had heard every word of the conversation Kalina and Crittendon were currently having, and his heart warmed at his littlest member's fierce loyalty to him. Not even a higher ranking colonel could suede her from honoring his orders, and that meant the world to him. He was lucky to have such a true-blue, big-hearted member to his team.

"Well, I'm waiting," Crittendon prodded. "What mistake did you make that caused Ol' Hogan boy to be so upset with?"

When the little Klink continued to stay silent and struggled to speak, it was then Kinch and the others stepped in and explained for her.

"Kalina's first assignment was not that great of a success," the radioman began. "She wasn't aware that the Gestapo were hot on the trail of two underground agents she was to meet with that night..._none_ of us were."

"She got distracted due to the bad weather and by the time she got to the meeting point, it was too late." Newkirk continued.

"The two agents were captured and murdered by the filthy bosche." LeBeau added.

"The information was safely hidden and successfully obtained...but boy, you should have seen how mad Colonel Hogan was. Why, he was as red as a fire truck I tell you. The only other time I saw him that mad was this one incident where I…"

"Andrew" Newkirk interrupted. "Shut up."

"Anyways," Kinch said, steering Crittendon back in the original direction. "Kalina was heartbroken over what happened. I've never seen a person more guilt ridden than she was after that. So guilt ridden she couldn't even look the Colonel straight in the eye afterwards. Felt like such a burden to him she even took off from here."

"Took off," the British colonel answered. "By what means?"

"Ran away, Sir. As far as Northwestern France. Joined an undisclosed United States Navy operation while the Colonel and LeBeau were looking for her...but that's a different story for another time." Kinch clarified.

"Colonel Hogan forgave her and welcomed her back to us with open arms, but _ma petite ami_ has never gotten over it completely. She has been terrified of upsetting _mon Colonel_ ever since." LeBeau added.

Crittendon turned his eyes back to Kalina, who looked back at him with a weary expression. _Now_ he understood her detestment with his idea. She was scared. Scared of disappointing Hogan again. Going against him and dishonoring him. The love and respect she had for him was stronger than any bond he had ever seen between commander and subordinate. It was almost father-daughter like, actually. For that, Crittendon was both baffled and impressed with her. She was young and fragile, but extremely mature and faithful to those she cared for.

"Your loyalty is extraordinary, Miss Kalina," he told her.

"_Herr Colonel_, I...I don't mean to be disrespectful, Sir, I...it's just…" Hogan's voice cut Kalina off from finishing.

"Kalina, you have my permission to go against my orders this one time."

Everyone's attention turned to the back of the room and were surprised to see Hogan standing there.

"Colonel," Kinch said.

"How much did you hear, Sir?" Newkirk asked.

"All of it," Hogan answered, making his way to them, particularly to Kalina. "Every word of it. And this is me telling you it's alright this time."

"Colonel Hogan, I...I don't know _how_," the little Klink claimed.

"You don't know how to go against someone's orders?" Hogan asked, with a chuckle.

"I can't, Colonel Hogan. My conscience won't let me."

"Then I _order_ you to disobey my orders. Just this once."

"You won't be angry?"

"No. Besides, I still owe you that favor from last night." He added a wink to his warm, lopsided smile.

Kalina's long frown turned into a small grin, gave the American a firm nod, then turned to face Crittendon once again and stood up straight while clicking her heels together.

"_Jawohl, Herr Colonel_," she said firmly.

"Jolly good, my dear. Jolly good," Crittendon answered. He turned to Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter. "Now, here's what I have planned for the diversion."

* * *

(1) _Es tut mir Leid, Herr Colonel_ \- I'm sorry, Mr. Colonel.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Night came before anyone expected it to. While Hogan was ordered to rest by camp medic Wilson, Crittendon, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, and Kalina snuck out of camp at a quarter to 10:00PM for the Gestapo holding center. It took about forty-five minutes to get there on foot, plus another ten minutes added from Carter reading the compass wrong, but the five finally reached their destination. All disguised as Gestapo personnel, Crittendon and the others approached the back end of the building that had once been used for a psychiatric hospital, lay down on their stomachs, and looked through the basement window at all the jail cells below.

"Can you see him, _ma petite ami_?" LeBeau asked Kalina.

"Not with all the heavy metal doors and barred windows blocking the view of the cells. They made poor sick people _live_ in these things?" She remarked, both with empathy and disgust.

"There will be plenty of time to debate the matter later. Right now we must focus our energy on Pike," Crittendon said.

"But how will I know which one is him?" Kalina asked.

Crittendon pulled out a photograph from his pocket and handed it over to the small Klink. Kalina looked at it for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Well, _that_ answered my question," she said.

"Now, you get the guard to take you to Pike's cell and demand for him to be released by orders of Berlin. Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, and I will give you five minutes to get in and started. We will then go inside, cause the diversion, and you quickly sneak back out of this window with Pike following from behind." Crittendon explained.

"Are you _sure_ you wouldn't wish to discuss this over with the Gov'nor before we just barge right in here?" Newkirk asked, an ugly feeling forming in his stomach. Something told him this was about to all go down the drain. Something very bad was about to happen once they stepped inside the building, and he was sure he did not want to know what that bad thing was.

"Nonsense. This plan is foil proof. I know this plan better than the back of my own hand," the colonel answered.

"That is what he always says before something _bad_ happens." LeBeau whispered to Kalina.

"Enough talk," Crittendon ordered, then turned to Kalina. "Miss Kalina, lead the way. And good luck."

The girl swallowed a knot forming in her throat, handed her officer's cap to Newkirk, then let out a soft breath of air before cracking the basement window open. She scanned the area to make sure no one was looking at her. Sensing the coast was clear, Kalina crawled inside the building, jumped down to the floor, and began her trek down the long hallway.

Meanwhile, the four men waited outside the front door, Crittendon keeping time on his watch.

"I don't like the feeling I'm getting, mates," Newkirk said, his stomach twisting in tighter knots.

"You think she's okay?" Carter asked, wringing his hands.

"Kalina is as safe as in her mum's arms. She will have Pike out of there before anyone has a chance to blink," Crittendon said, with confidence. "Follow me. It's time."

Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau exchanged a weary glance with each other, let out an uneasy sigh, and reluctantly followed the British officer inside.

* * *

Kalina, dressed as a Gestapo colonel, sauntered down several more halls, scanning for another Gestapo soldier or officer wandering around. Someone had to be doing night duty rounds. If she knew the Gestapo as well as she and every other well informed German did, it was that the Gestapo were very thorough.

She eventually came across a lieutenant leaning against the wall near a cell smoking a cigar. He appeared bored out of his mind, ready for his shift to be over. His facial expression was somber, black circles were surrounding his cloudy, dark blue eyes. His dark brown hair seemed rustled like it would be after a long nap. Kalina put on her best Hochstetter impersonation and stormed over towards her 'subordinate'.

"_Achtung_!" She barked.

The lieutenant turned to face her direction and almost instantaneously snapped into attention and gave Kalina a proper salute. She ignored to return the gesture and glared at him in disgust like she had seen Hochstetter done to her father many times in the past.

"Smoking while on duty there, ehy Lieutenant?" She asked, grabbing the cigar roughly from the man's hands. She threw it on the floor and stomped on it with the heel of her boot. "Give the Gestapo a bad name, is that what you want?"

"N, n, nn no, _Fraulein Oberst_. I was just taking a little…"

"Shut up!" Kalina narrowed her eyes at the shivering officer and took a few steps closer to him, making him press hard against the wall he once leaned on. "I do not have time for slackers in my schedule. I'm here to take a Colonel Herbert Pike to Berlin on orders of General Burkhalter's."

"General _Burkhalter_," the lieutenant gasped. "But, _Fraulein Oberst_, we have orders by the Colonel that Colonel Pike not be released to anyone until…"

"I said 'shut up'! Since when does the orders of a Gestapo colonel outrank those of a _general's_?! Now take me to him! _NOW_, or I will have you transferred to a unit in Moscow by morning!"

"_Jawohl, Fraulein Oberst_."

The lieutenant stumbled as he lead Kalina to Pike's cell, the small Klink shaking her head in shame as she followed the jumpy man.

Out front, Crittendon and the others made their exit from the elevator onto the basement floor and spotted the main desk where a Gestapo major sat doing paperwork. Sensing the presence of someone new, the major looked up to spot the group of four Gestapo personnel before him and was anything but amused.

"Can I help you?" He asked, in a monotone.

Before Crittendon had a chance to speak, Newkirk muttered to Carter under his breath. "I kissed your wife."

The young sergeant snapped his attention to his left.

"You what?" He asked, in a gruff German accent.

"I kissed, your wife." Newkirk repeated.

"_Entschuldigen Sie mich_, but what does this have to do with…" the major never got to finish his thought. The sound of Carter slamming his gun onto the desk interrupted him midway. (1)

"You kissed my wife?!" Carter exclaimed.

"You kissed my girlfriend, I thought it was only fair," Newkirk said, crossing his arms.

"You _schmieriger Verräter_! My brother is a general in Berlin, I could have you _shot_ for this!" (2)

"I will have you transferred to Russia before you have a chance to load your gun!"

"Traitor!"

"_Schweinehund_!" (3)

Newkirk and Carter began reaching for the other's face, shoving and shouting at one another as the major and LeBeau stepped in to try and break up the fight.

"Stop it, stop it! Damn it, I order you to stop it," The major yelled over them. When it was silent, he continued. "_Mein Gott_, you're acting like children. Now knock it off and tell me what it is you four want!"

"I'll knock it off when he's good and dead," Carter said.

"Oh good," Newkirk answered. "I'll take your wife _with_ me then!"

The two men began attacking each other again, ending up falling onto the ground and wrestling each other. LeBeau and the major again tried breaking it up, but this time no one would listen. The arguing and wrestling only intensified. With both disguised flyers shouting combined with the major's barking, it was merely impossible to distinguish what everyone was saying.

"You two keep arguing, and I'll push this button to set off the fire alarms," Crittendon said over all of them, hovering his hand over a large red button sitting on top of the front desk.

"_What_ button?" The major asked. He turned his eyes to Crittendon, spotted his hand over the red button, and felt his eyes threatening to jump out of his head. Every ounce of air was sucked out of his lungs as he watched Crittendon bring his hand down towards the button. The major quickly regained his sense of reality and lunged for the man. "DON'T TOUCH THAT BUTTON!"

Crittendon slammed the red button down as the major tackled him to the ground. The immediate sound of a bell ringing brought everyone's attention back to reality, and the major got to his feet, glaring down at Crittendon.

"_Dummkopf_!" He screamed. "That's the intruder alarm! You've just set off the _Sprengfallen_!" (4)

"_Sprengfallen_!" The four Allied flyers gasped.

As the major and the rest of the Gestapo personnel made a run for the emergency exit, smoke began to spit out from the walls and clouded everything from sight. Heavy coughing and someone yelling commands in German could be heard over the loud alarm ringing and panicking crowd.

While all personnel were running out of the building, Kalina and the lieutenant were in the middle of unlocking Pike's cell when the alarm began to ring. The lieutenant paused momentarily, trying to identify the sudden sound, then his eyes widened with horror at the realization.

"The _Sprengfallen_! It has been set off!" He cried, and hurried to the nearest exit, Kalina expeditiously following from behind.

Newkirk, Carter, and LeBeau coughed and hacked, just barely able to make out their surroundings due to the thick smoke surrounding them.

"I can't see anything," Newkirk said, yelling over the alarm.

"How do we get out of here?" Carter asked, coughing violently.

"Follow me, men," Crittendon ordered. "I'll have us out in two seconds tops."

The British colonel ran to what he assumed to be the door, but ended up running into a wall and fell to the ground unconscious.

"Great," Newkirk commented. "_Now_ what do we do?"

"Get down!" LeBeau yelled.

The sound of guns coming out from hidden seals in the walls had all three of them falling to the ground and covering their heads. Soon nothing but the alarm and gunfire rang out throughout the secret holding area.

"Follow me," Newkirk said. "We'll have to _crawl_ our way to Crittendon and the door."

Hogan's men began to retreat, when Kalina came out into the main area searching for them. She spotted them on the floor and continued running, but unfortunately came out unlucky. Unaware of the hidden machine guns, one of the firearms shot in her direction and hit her right in her upper left. She fell to the ground and remained silent.

"Kalina!" Newkirk cried. He and Carter hurried to the little Klink's side, Carter cradling her in his arms.

"Oh man, she's bleeding a lot, Newkirk." The sergeant trembled. "What do we do?"

"We'll get Crittendon, you take me little mate. Hurry!"

They both got to their feet and hurried for the barely visible exit. Newkirk and LeBeau slouched Crittendon over their shoulders, and Carter brought up the rear carrying Kalina. The English corporal opened the door with his spare hand, and the three flyers made a run for it, leaving nothing but smoke, gunfire, and Pike behind.

* * *

(1) _Entschuldigen Sie mich _\- Excuse me

(2) _schmieriger Verräter _\- Filthy traitor

(3) _Schweinehund _\- pig dog

(4) _Sprengfallen_ \- Booby traps


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

"I just don't understand it," Crittendon said, as Wilson's assistant flashed a light inside the colonel's eyes. He had bandages wrapped around his head and was surrounded by Hogan and his men, while Wilson tended to Kalina's injuries. "I was absolutely certain that button was the fire alarm."

"Weren't you ever taught not to push the red button on _anything_?" Newkirk asked him, sounding more like a scolding.

"That was all Jerry's fault. They shouldn't leave intruder alarms out in the open like that. _That_ I'm a hundred percent certain of," Crittendon answered.

"I wouldn't be certain of _anything_ for the next 24 hours, Colonel," the medical assistant, Corporal Molinari, said. "You've got a nasty bump on the head and a pretty serious concussion to top it all. I'm ordering you to take it easy for the next couple of days. No physical activity of any sort until further notice."

"I assure you, Corporal, that it won't be necessary. I am in complete, tip-top shape," Crittendon said, slowly getting to his feet. He took one step forward and fell to the ground.

"And _I _assure you that you can barely walk." Kinch commented, crossing his arms. LeBeau, who stood next to him, closed his eyes and shook his head.

Hogan turned his eyes to the ceiling begging for mercy, then turned to his left and walked behind the curtain to where Wilson hovered over an unconscious Kalina, who was now wearing a white, long-sleeved nightgown.

"How is she?" Hogan asked, angst clearly evident in his voice.

"She's suffered pretty severe injuries from that gunshot. Lost half a pint of blood, several of her shoulder muscles have been torn and bruised, and required about 50 sutures to repair the damages during surgery. Had that bullet gone any lower, it would have hit her subclavian artery and caused her to bleed out to death," Wilson reported grimly.

"Will she be alright, Joe?"

The camp medic looked at his commander for a moment, then shook his head.

"I won't know unless she wakes up. The longer she's unconscious, the more I worry," he told Hogan.

The colonel let out a shaky breath, then sat down on Kalina's right. Besides the yellow sling her arm was cradled in and the slight paleness of her face, she just appeared to be sleeping.

Hogan felt his throat tightened and tears stinging the corners of his eyes. If the little girl did not pull through, he would never forgive himself. He was guilt ridden enough as it was. He should have gone with them tonight. He should have been there to stop Crittendon from hitting that button. Or to have jumped in front of the hidden gun that shot Kalina and taken the bullet for her. Instead he had been ordered to stay behind all because of his stupid incident with the vodka the previous night. Now Crittendon could barely stand without wobbling, and Kalina lay unconscious while fighting for her life.

He gently placed a hand on Kalina's cheek and rubbed it with his thumb. The water in his eyes began to burn, and his throat felt like it was strangling itself.

"Wake up, honey," Hogan croaked.

As if on command, Kalina's eyes slowly fluttered open and turned her head towards him.

Hogan's eyes lit up like stars the moment he saw her looking at him, and a wide smile came to his face.

"Colonel Hogan?" She asked, just slightly above a whisper.

"Yeah," he answered softly. "It's me, I'm right here, hon."

"What happened?...My arm feels sore."

"You were shot pretty bad in your shoulder. You remember?"

"...Colonel...Pike?"

Hogan gave an empathetic frown and shook his head.

"He didn't make it out in time, hon. I'm afraid he's still in Gestapo custody," he said.

"...where's Colonel Crittendon?" Kalina asked.

"Colonel Crittendon's fine," Hogan answered, his smile returning. "He's got a bad bump on the head, but he's alright. So are you."

"Colonel Hogan...I'm sorry I failed."

"Hey, you have _nothing_ to be sorry about. You're okay, that's the important thing."

"Colonel Hogan...can I have a hug?"

"You can have about four or five of them."

Wilson eased the little Klink up into a sitting position, and Hogan gently took her in his arms. He gave her a soft kiss on the head, making Kalina give a tired smile. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, when the infirmary door slammed open and a familiar voice and running footsteps were heard throughout the main area.

"Where is she? Where is my little girl?" Klink demanded. He pushed his way past the privacy curtains, much to Molinari's dismay, spotted his daughter sitting up in bed and in Hogan's arms, then sighed with relief and ran to her side. "Oh _danke, mein Gott_, you're alright," he said, as he took Kalina into his arms and kissed her head repeatedly. "How are you, my _sußes_?"

Kalina swallowed, trying to aid her throat's dryness, then answered softly, "Tired, Papa...this pain medicine...it makes me...sleepy."

"Who did this to you? You tell Papa right now, and I promise you this mongrel will be in Russia by morning."

"I don't...I don't remember, Papa...it was dark...I heard something outside...wanted to...make sure it wasn't a prisoner trying to escape."

"So this guard shoots you instead thinking you're one of the prisoners. Absolutely disgraceful."

"_I_ might know who it is, Kommandant," Hogan said. "Kalina was muttering someone's physical description as she came to. Tall, light colored hair, kind of walks like a dog with his nose stuck up in the air."

"You think she meant Sergeant Jachmann, he's never liked me," Klink questioned.

"He have that crooked jaw and constantly going against your orders? If so, I think you just found your perpetrator," the American answered.

Sergeant Jachmann had been at Stalag 13 for a little over seven months, and he hated Hogan and his men. He even hated Kalina due to her always being around them. He had no respect for Klink, made other guards do his work, and was constantly snooping around and interfering with Hogan's plans to complete assignments. If he could get rid of the Luftwaffe Hochstetter, it would be a 200 pound weight lifted off of his shoulders.

"That little weasel, how _dare_ he hurt my baby," Klink spat. "I shall have transfer papers drawn up before sunrise and have him on a train to the Eastern Front for combat duty by tomorrow night."

"Alright, I think little Kalina's had enough excitement for one night. She needs her rest now. If she's doing well by morning she can return to her quarters and recover further from there. Kommandant, you will be the first one I call for if anything changes," Wilson ordered.

Klink, though having every urge to demand he stay by his daughter's side, let out a soft sigh and looked down at his daughter, who was still leaning against him. He gently rubbed the back of her head.

"You're sure you'll be alright in here for one night? I will give the orders to stay with you if necessary," he told her.

Kalina, who was almost completely out, just barely nodded in response.

Klink gently lay her back onto her pillow, tucked her in tight with her baby blanket she still slept with, then rubbed her head a bit more and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"_Gute nacht, meine kleine sußes_. I love you, baby girl," he said softly.

Klink gave Kalina one more kiss on the head, then rose to his feet and headed for the door, Hogan in toe. The American paused halfway there, then looked back at his littlest member once more. Seeing her snuggle up with her baby blanket and resting comfortably, Hogan gave a warm smile.

"Goodnight, Kalina," he said, then turned around and headed for the door.

* * *

"Transferred!" Jachmann exclaimed, standing before Klink the following morning. He had just been briefed by his commander of Kalina being shot last night and was now being sent to another unit because of someone accusing him of doing the crime. Beside him was Burkhalter with his arms clasped behind his back, not saying a single word. The general had already been notified regarding the matter and agreed with Klink that Stalag 13 had no place for incompetent, negligent soldiers.

"To a combat unit in Minsk tonight. Your train ticket and papers have already been prepared," the kommandant continued.

"_Herr Kommandant_, this is _ridiculous_! I never fired my gun, not even once last night!"

"My little girl almost died last night. Had the bullet that shot her had gone any further down, she wouldn't be resting in my quarters right now. This is a serious offense, Sergeant."

"I never saw Kalina wandering around the camp last night, and I _never_ fired my gun at her thinking she was a prisoner trying to escape! First of all, she's too little to be mistaken for one of those filthy swine."

"Really. Then why does my daughter have a sling around her arm and about 50 stitches in her shoulder as we speak?"

"I don't know, Kommandant. Maybe she found a gun you own lying around, and it went off on accident. Perhaps you shouldn't be so negligent and lock up dangerous objects from your child!"

Klink slammed his hand down on his desk and shot to his feet, his blue eyes blazing with rage.

"How _dare_ you question my authority!" He shouted. What little control he had was gone, and months of putting up with backtalk and disobedience boiled over, mixing into the anger over Kalina. "You have been a disruptive influence since you have arrived. Your conduct has been appalling and now, when you've been caught in your dereliction, you try to pass the buck. _Herr General_, I must insist you authorize this transfer."

"Consider it done," Burkhalter answered calmly. He turned to Jachmann. "Sergeant Jachmann, pack up your valuables. Sergeant Schultz shall escort you to the train station once you are done."

Jachmann's face was as red as a fire truck by that point. His dark eyes were blazing with hate and fury. He almost resembled a bull ready to charge. He let out a steamy breath of air out of his nose, then turned on his heels and stormed out of the office, closing the door with a loud bang behind him.

"How _dare_ he disrespect me like that. And with my little girl as some type of ammunition!" Klink spat. "He can attack me all he likes, but when you go after my baby, _that's_ where I draw the line!"

"He will not be a problem any longer, Klink. Believe me; he will not be _anybody's_ problem again," Burkhalter said. "Now that he is out of the way, we can return our attention to finding Pike."

"But General Burkhalter, how do we even _find_ Colonel Pike? I have made phone calls to every Gestapo personnel in this area I hold rank over, and no one will release that information to me."

"Did you get the man's name in charge of Pike's case?"

"Oh, I couldn't remember it by now. Colonel Schmalz, Schmale, I can't recall."

"Colonel Schmale?" Burkhalter gasped.

"You know him?"

"Unfortunately. We were rivals back in the academy. He has tried to outdo me in everything ever since I was promoted to captain instead of him. I joined the Luftwaffe, and he joined the Gestapo. We have been neck and neck with one another to be the better officer ever since."

"You think he will tell us where Colonel Pike is being held?"

"Schmale would rather lick the bottom of an American's shoe. We will have to find another way to get Pike's current location."

"Or we could just...let the Gestapo…" Klink cleared his throat when Burkhalter began to glare. "Take care of it." He frowned and slouched his shoulders when the glare failed to cease. "I know, I know, shut up, Klink. I'm shutting up, Sir."

* * *

Hogan paced back and forth across the barracks main area, his arms clasped behind his back, as he thought of another plan to spring Pike out of custody. While his mind turned at a hundred miles a minute, his men, all seated at the table with cups of coffee, threw ideas out at him. Meanwhile, Crittendon lay in Carter's bunk trying to ignore the splitting headache he currently suffered from.

"What if we barged in and held everyone hostage while demanding Pike be released?" Carter suggested.

"I could set fire to the place, and everyone would have to evacuate the area," Newkirk said, taking a drag on a cigarette.

"That'd never work. If there was a fire, the Gestapo would just leave all our guys to burn alive," Kinch answered.

"We could make up some fake papers by Burkhalter ordering him to be released," LeBeau threw in.

"Fat chance," Kinch said. "Otto was able to dig up information on the Kraut responsible for Pike's case. A Colonel Alexander Schmale. He and Burkhalter go back all the way to their time at the academy with one another. They've been rivals ever since. There's no way he'd hand over Pike to Burkhalter's custody. Not when Burkhalter stole a promotion from him years ago and made him green with envy ever since."

"I got it," Carter said, his eyes twinkling with childish excitement. "A sleeping gas bomb."

"And explain how you expect us to get Pike without falling asleep ourselves," Newkirk remarked.

Carter fell silent for a moment.

"I didn't think that far yet."

The Englishman turned his head to the side and shook it.

"Blimey," he grumbled. "Andrew, you're more single minded than an amoeba."

"I am not! Amoebas have no brain, therefore they can't think. I should know, _I've_ seen one. Back when I was in high school, we were learning about all kinds of different organisms, and when we got to the amoeba unit, we…"

"Carter." Kinch groused.

"Forget it, mates," Newkirk said. "There's no way we're getting Pike out of there. If this colonel won't even listen to Burkhalter, who the bloody hell _will_ he listen to?"

"Another general," Hogan answered, wrapping his arms around himself. "A _Gestapo_ general."

"Where are we going to get a Gestapo general from?" LeBeau asked, baffled.

Hogan quietly made his way to LeBeau's side before barking at him in a gruff German accent, startling the poor corporal nearly into having a heart attack. "How _dare_ you nearly kill Colonel Evelyn Auer! Perhaps a transfer to the Russian Front shall open your eyes fully!"

"Stop right there, Hogan ol' boy," Crittendon said, slowly getting himself into a sitting position. "That will never do. We must act with quick wit and sudden surprise if we are to free Pike."

"Colonel Crittendon, you have a serious concussion and can barely stand up, let alone walk," Hogan replied. "What makes you think you can plot out a rescue operation with a clear mind?"

"What are you talking about?" Crittendon got to his feet and moved his right leg forward before collapsing to the ground.

"My point exactly."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

As soon as evening roll call was over, Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Olsen all got dressed in Gestapo uniforms and headed for the holding center, while Kinch and Carter stayed behind to take care of a restless Crittendon.

The same major that had been working the previous night was again at the front desk busy with paperwork, when Hogan and his crew barged inside unannounced. The colonel, disguised with glasses, a grayish-black mustache, and a swagger stick clutched in his right hand, marched straight up to the major and gawked at him with cold eyes.

Sensing someone's presence before him, the major looked up unamused, caught a glance of Hogan, and shot to his feet while extending his arm out into the Hitler salute. He trembled violently under the 'general's' stare and was close to wetting himself once looking into his eyes.

"_Heil Hitler, Herr General_," the major wheezed.

"I am General Fredrik Reichenbach of the _Fuhrer's_ staff. I demand to speak with Colonel Schmale at once!" Hogan barked, in his usual, poor German accent.

"_Herr General_, I, I, I do not know if he is currently available, _Herr General_."

"_Make_ him available! Or I will ship you in a box to the nearest combat unit!"

"_Jawohl, Herr General_. Right away, _Herr General_."

The major spun on his heels and literally bolted in the direction of Schmale's office. It was about three seconds before he returned with the colonel himself. He momentarily froze in his spot, then ran to Hogan's side and gave him the best salute possible. He received a raised hand in response.

The colonel was about Burkhalter's age, but no where near his size. He was extremely fit, about 5'11", had graying brown hair, and wore glasses over his dark blue eyes.

"_Herr General_," Schmale gasped. "What brings _you_ all the way here, Sir?"

"You're the one in charge of this facility?" Hogan asked.

"_Jawohl, Herr General_."

Hogan kicked Schmale in the shin, then stomped on his foot, making the colonel yelp out in pain and hold his foot tenderly.

"You're lucky I didn't have you court martialed and shot!" Hogan hollered. "After you nearly killed my little Evelyn last night!"

"_Evelyn_. Who is Evelyn, _Herr General_?"

"Colonel Evelyn Auer. My niece. She was here to retrieve a Colonel Pike last night, and your stupid intruder alarm nearly got her killed!"

"_Herr General_, I sincerely apologize for the injuries your niece has suffered from, but I was informed that another one of your colleagues pushed the alarm button thinking it was the fire alarm."

"SILENCE!" Hogan whacked the desk hard with his swagger stick, making both Schmale and the major stand at attention. "My colleague would have never touched that button had it not been in the open! You dare to be so stupid to leave an intruder alarm out in plain sight?! I could have you tried for negligence and incompetence for this! You will bring me this Colonel Pike at once, so I may turn him over to General Burkhalter for questioning!"

"General Burkhalter," Schmale cried. He laughed. "And let him get all the credit for the capture of the Banshee. Forgive me, _Herr General_, but you must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to let the Luftwaffe, let alone Albert, get all the credit for this case."

"They are not orders by General Burkhalter, they are orders from the _Fuhrer_ himself!"

"The _Fuhrer_?" The Gestapo colonel shivered, his pupils dilating nearly to the size of his blue irises.

"I want Colonel Pike brought to me _now_! Or I will have Sergeant Kamber kill you with your own, stupid intruder alarm!"

To provoke even more apprehension, Olsen stepped forward with a hard glare and hovered his hand over the red button sitting on the front desk.

"One," Hogan began. "Two. Three. _Four_!"

"Bring the General Colonel Pike at once," Schmale cried, as he saw Olsen about to lower his hand on the button.

"_Jawohl, mein Oberst_," the major said, with a firm salute. He disappeared down the hall, leaving Schmale alone with Hogan and his men momentarily. He swallowed a large knot down his throat as Hogan's gaze never left his sight.

"Putzi!" The disguised colonel called for.

"_Jawohl, mein General_," Newkirk answered, in a gruff German accent.

"Put this imbecile's name down."

Newkirk pulled out a notepad from his jacket pocket, flipped it open, then grabbed a pen from his chest pocket and paused while writing something down. He lifted his eyes to Hogan.

"Sent to the Russian Front, court martialed, or be shot, _Herr General_?" He asked.

"I don't know, surprise me."

"_Jawohl, Herr General_."

As Newkirk finished writing, the major was literally pushing a young man towards Hogan. The man was in tattered uniform clothing, had dirt on his cheeks, and his hands were tightly cuffed together. He was about LeBeau's age, around Newkirk's height, had light brown hair and green eyes. It was the man they had been longing to see: Colonel Herbert Pike of the United States Army Air Force.

"Colonel Herbert Pike of the United States military, _Herr General_," the major reported, snapping back to attention.

"_Gut_. Very good, Major," Hogan said, turning to his watch. "And with 10 seconds to spare. Kamber! Escort our prisoner to my car."

Olsen stepped forward towards the young officer, gently grabbed him by his arms, and lead him out of the holding center with LeBeau and Newkirk in toe. Once the four were out of sight, Hogan turned his blazing eyes back to the two Germans before him, looked at the intruder button, then smacked it with his swagger stick and made for the exit as the alarms began to ring.

The American exited the building and made his way to the 'borrowed' staff car from Klink's camp, where his men and Pike were waiting for him. He took the fake mustache and glasses off of his face and turned to his younger counterpart.

"Colonel Pike?" He asked softly.

Pike's eyes widened at the sound of the man's American accent.

"You're not German," he answered.

"Italian, Irish, and a little Norwegian." Hogan clarified.

"I don't understand," Pike said. "If you're American, where are you taking me then?"

"How's a little plane back to England sound?"

"_England_! But how are you going to do that?"

"Papa Bear always finds a way, Colonel." Hogan gave a wink with his lopsided grin, then stepped inside the driver's side and started the ignition.

Pike nodded as Hogan walked away, then did a double take, his eyes widening even further.

"Pa, pa, pa, Papa who?" He stuttered.

"Explain it to yah later, mate. Hop on in," Newkirk said, with a gesture of his hand.

The younger man tried to comprehend everything that was happening at that moment, but it made him nauseous. His brain felt like it was spinning around in his skull, and it made him feel woozy. He closed his eyes and shook his head with a low groan.

"I need to ask London for a vacation," Pike said. He climbed into the car, Newkirk closing the door behind him.

The Englishman jumped into the passenger side beside Hogan, and the car pulled away from the curb and headed back for Stalag 13.

* * *

(_One week later…_)

Pike had returned back to London safe and sound, Burkhalter returned to Berlin blaming Schmale for being so stupid and falling for the 'underground's' excuse to releasing the Luftwaffe's prized prisoner, and Crittendon had been transferred back to Stalag 16 after making a miserable attempt at trying to escape Stalag 13. Due to his concussion, he did not get far before tumbling to the ground. Klink feeling he was still too much of a troublemaker for his perfect camp, he had contacted Crittendon's previous kommandant and had set up the transfer a few days after Pike's return to London.

Inside Klink's office, Hogan, his men, and Kalina gathered around the radio listening to the championship soccer game between France and Belgium. Hogan sat in the chair underneath the Hitler picture with their hidden microphone in it, Kalina sat in the colonel's lap, and the others sat on the floor cross legged. The room was booming with chanting, cheering, and the sound of soccer ball kicks and commentators reporting in English.

It was the final period, and four minutes were left in the game. France and Belgium were tied 3-3. Whoever scored the next point would be crowned this year's European Football Champion, and the group of six were on the edge of their seats, all rooting for France to pull through.

"Come on, Allemand, make _Paris_ proud," LeBeau muttered, his blood veins pumping with adrenaline.

"Show those Belgian waffles who you are, mates." Newkirk said.

"You think France can do it, LeBeau?" Kalina asked.

"My France can do _anything, ma petite_. They will win this with flying colors, I can feel it," the Frenchman answered her.

"They better do it quick then," Kinch said. "Two minutes left they just said."

"Boy, if they don't score soon, we could go into overtime." Carter added.

"Let's just hope France can pull through for us one more time," Hogan said.

"_France is taking it down the field, Giteau passes it to Allemand, Allemand's headed for the goalie, and HE'S DONE IT_!" The announcer cried. Whatever he said next was muted out by the sound of everyone cheering. Hogan's men jumped up with glee, while the colonel watched with a grin on his face.

"_Vive la France! Vive la France! Vive la France_!" LeBeau, Kalina, and Carter chanted.

"What's going on here?!" A familiar voice thundered throughout the room. The team of six turned to the office door and found Klink standing near the entryway.

"France just won the European Championships against Belgium," Carter reported, his eyes shining like a child's on Christmas morning.

"First time in 20 years." Kinch added, his fists shoved into his jacket pockets.

Klink scoffed with disgust.

"Those _Betrüger_," he said. "It should have been _Germany_ playing against France tonight, not those cowards." (1)

"Looks like wars aren't the _only_ thing you Germans are bad at winning," Hogan said softly, with a chuckle.

Klink snapped his eyes to his Senior POW and scowled.

"Hogan!" He exclaimed.

"What? It's not _my_ fault you guys lost the first war," Hogan remarked.

The kommandant put his fingers to his forehead, feeling an awful migraine coming on, while everyone else tried to fight back the grins slowly forming on their faces. Just another 'normal' day at Stalag 13.

* * *

(1) _Betrüger_ \- Cheaters/deceivers


End file.
